


Ever Changing, Ever Growing

by afteriwake



Series: The Curious Case of Love & Family [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Amused Sherlock Holmes, Annoyed Molly Hooper, Asylums, Background Case, Beatrice Is Anthea, Bedrooms, Childhood Friends, Eloping, Escape from Asylums, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Fake Marriage, Falling In Love, Female Friendship, Female Hysteria, First Kiss, For Science!, Gretna Green, Hotels, Late Night Conversations, Literal Sleeping Together, Marriage of Convenience, Married Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Mentioned Eurus Holmes, Mentions of Orgasms, Molly is a Spinster, Not Canon Compliant, POV Alternating, POV Molly Hooper, POV Sherlock Holmes, Science Experiments, Sharing a Bed, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Suffrage Movement, Underdressed Female Clothed Male, Victorian Molly Hooper, Victorian Sherlock Holmes, Votes For Women, mentions of vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2019-08-18 19:26:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16523201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: They make the arrangement to present what society wants from them to the world as husband and wife, but childhood friends Sherlock Holmes and Margaret Hooper agree that their lives are their own. But what happens when the agreement for their marriage of convenience is rewritten to allow experimentation of a more intimate nature between them?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mychakk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mychakk/gifts), [Sherlollian2016m](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlollian2016m/gifts).



> So this was a prompt answer requested by **mychakk** (“ _Sherlolly 'omg, were just friends but I think I’m actually in love with my spouse but there is no way they love me back drama' Victorian AU_ “) that was claimed by **Sherlollian2016m** today. I know I hadn't planned on any of the prompt answers to be WIPs but this one just screams for multiple chapters.

“’You do know, Margaret, it’s not _proper_ for a woman to devote herself to science?’” Margaret Hooper paced in front of the fireplace in her friend’s flat. Oh, she hated the restrictions of her time that were imposed on women already, but she hated them even more so when they were thrown back in her face by those she considered friends or closer. “Sherlock, can you believe my sister would have the audacity to say that? She ran off to Gretna Green, for goodness sake!”

Sherlock shook his head, taking a puff from his pipe. He and Margaret had been friends for a long time, ever since he had put an advertisement as a boy in the London paper looking for similar minded people to form a small consortium who dabbled in the sciences. There had been a flurry of interest until it was found out he was a _boy_ , and in the end, only Margaret had stayed. It had been an uneasy friendship at first until the day she went and broke the nose of an older boy who was pestering them.

After that, nothing could tear them apart, it seemed, except the strictures of society.

“Then get a husband,” he said slowly.

The wide eyes and equally wide mouth that Molly turned to look at him with would have looked unseemly on any woman, but he was used to it on Molly’s face. She had the patience of a saint and the temperament of the Devil himself when challenged. “You, Sherlock, are truly an imbecile, you realize that, don’t you? If I get a husband, he'll demand we put an end to our friendship and our experiments even more than my mother does. And he can bend me to his will. He’ll have all the power in the arrangement.”

“Not if your husband is me, he won’t.” He exhaled the smoke from his pipe, knowing this time the shocked expression would be one of pure shock. They were friends, perhaps, to an extent, platonic soulmates, but no more than that. He didn’t have a romantic bone in his body and she was the most practical woman he knew. If anyone would make him a good wife, it would be her. “My brother insists I’m the one to carry on the family name despite the fact he’s already betrothed, and I assume if I marry eventually he’ll remember he’s the eldest and his children would inherit. But we can marry and have a contractual marriage, and you may go off and do what you please and I may do what I please and we’ll only present a united front as husband and wife in situations where society calls for it. If you’d like to work on the social causes you hold near and dear, I will be there to bail you out of jail. And as for science, we can spend entire days and nights on our experiments.”

Molly closed her mouth and adopted a thoughtful look. “And we can have separate bedrooms?”

Sherlock nodded. “There is no reason for either of us to need to form an intimate attachment, at least with each other. Should you desire to take a ‘lover’ I’ll feign ignorance.”

“And you?” she asked, tilting her head.

“You should know well enough there’s no passion running through my loins, just a need to continue learning and educating myself and getting this bloody consulting detective profession to mean something.” He sighed. “We have the skills to be the best of partners without emotion getting in the way. So what do you say to the proposition?” He stood then and moved over towards her, setting the pipe on the mantle. “Margaret Elizabeth Hooper, will you become my legal partner and fake wife?”

He offered her his hand and after a moment she shook it. “I think I will, Sherlock. Lord knows it’s not the proposal my mother hoped for, but if I’m married I think she will care little for how I was asked.”

“Now then, should we get a carriage to Gretna Green or proceed in the proper way?” he asked, shaking her hand once and then letting go. 

Molly turned and went to get her hat. “Our carriage awaits, _partner_ ,” she said with a cheeky smile. “Why should I let my sister have all the fun of an elopement?”


	2. Chapter 2

In order for the ruse to work, she knew they would have to share a bed at Gretna Green. That was the whole point, after all; her reputation should appear to be in tatters and Sherlock would, diligently, step in and do the proper thing and marry her with little fuss. She did not have clothing with her suitable to sleep in, so she simply stripped down to her petticoat while Sherlock took care of his needs in another part of the room.

When he came out it was his time to have wide eyes, looking at her attire, and she gestured to it. “If we’re found, it would be so much the better,” she pointed out. “Not that anyone would doubt we have already been intimate, because Lord knows that’s the rumour of the ton, but still. Proof to see with one’s eyes makes a better experiment, does it not?”

His eyes took on a more speculative look, as did the rest of his expression, and then he removed his dressing gown and left himself in his sleeping attire. “So I suppose we should get what rest we can before we are found out,” he said. “Which side of the bed would you prefer?”

“The right,” she said.

He relaxed. “Good. I prefer to sleep on my left side.” They went and pulled the covers back and went into the bed, facing each other. “So we know we’ll be found out at some point, either tonight or in the morning, but what are our plans for the rest of the time we play this charade?”

“Well, we have our current blood spatter experiments to continue,” she said. “And I would love to see more of what your tobacco ash study brings about. I find it fascinating.”

“You must be the only one,” he said with a soft smile.

“No, surely there are others,” she said. “When you can publish your results, I’m sure more will be interested. And I can help more with the consulting business. Not as your partner, I suppose, but handling the rest of the aspects of the business, the things I know you will ignore once the cases come in.”

“You would be a godsend for that,” he said. “What of your social causes?”

“I’ll continue to work on that, and getting my own education furthered. I know my family does not come from money but yours does, and if I am your wife and we have a marriage that seems unusual to others, no one would find it too inconceivable that I would go abroad to attend a medical university.”

“Should I go with you?” he asked.

“No, no. I can go alone and you and I may live apart for a time. That is, of course, if I can find a university abroad that will accept a married woman.” She gave him a smile. “So there may be some small drawbacks to this plan, but we’ll work around them.”

“My family’s influence could set the beginning of your education here in England,” he mused. “My mother is a woman of great intelligence and she has been fond of you since we were children. She may throw her weight behind the cause of your furthered education.”

“That would make things a tad easier,” she admitted. “I think it would only need to be medical training I would need to go abroad for, then.” She reached over hesitantly and clasped his hand. “Do you...have regrets? That you are to have me by your side for as long as we need this ruse to last?”

“None,” he said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead. They both knew they would need to show some signs of intimacy towards each other, or at least the socially acceptable forms, and it was easier to start now that later, but there was still a sense of peace that settled through her, much to her surprise. She had thought she might feel dread or even disgust at his lips pressed upon her skin, but she only felt comfort. That further made her think that this was, indeed, the right choice for them. “We should sleep now.”

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “Good night, Sherlock.”

“Good night, Margaret,” he said before moving to turn the light off. He pulled her close when he returned to bed and she settled in, that same sense of peace flowing through her. Yes, indeed, marriage to Sherlock would be a good thing, she thought to herself. What could go wrong when one married their best friend?


	3. Chapter 3

No one barged into the room to demand that her precious reputation be salvaged by spending a night with Sherlock. It made her wonder if, perhaps, her family cared so little of her reputation with the rumors of the ton already running rampant. But Sherlock had followed through on his promise to marry her for her freedom, and she ran her thumb along the wedding band he had given her when he had promised to love her until death did they part.

Little did the priest know this wasn’t a true marriage, or else she doubted he would have performed the ceremony.

The ring was quite lovely, to be quite honest; a sizable diamond surmounted by glittering rubies. He said it was some family heirloom and as his brother had passed it over to give to his wife it had been left to him. It should be put to use adorning her finger than simply sitting in a dusty box, he had said, and she had to admit, she hadn’t had such fine jewelry in her entire life.

The carriage pulled up outside of her home but she could tell even before they got out of the carriage that something was different. Her youngest sister had been looking out the window and when she saw Sherlock leave the carriage she shut the drapery, but no one came to the door when he knocked. Then she knew: the reason no one had come after her as they had with her sister proved that she was unimportant to them, nothing more than an afterthought. Because Sherlock had married her, they could finally be rid of her, as it seemed to be what her family had wanted.

Her suspicions were confirmed when they arrived at what was to be her new home and Sherlock’s butler said all of her belonging had been delivered, first thing in the morning. She felt an ache in her stomach she had not expected and tears threatened to fall. She had no family anymore, and that was a savagely heartbreaking thing.

Once Sherlock’s butler had departed then the tears had fallen, and Sherlock had comforted her as he had done in the past; a little woodenly but with the love of one who cared for their friend. She reached up and embraced his neck, crying into the crook of his neck, and he slowly rubbed at her back. “They did not deserve you,” he said, over and over, until the tears dried and she was left with just the ache.

“Still, I am a ruined woman.”

“I married you,” he said. “There would be a scandal if I had not, but I did, and we will play their game. Let there be talk for a time and then we will make our marks on society in ways your family never dreamed of. They will come crawling back to be in your presence.”

“But that wasn’t what we wanted,” she said, looking up at him.

He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I do not like people who hurt those I care for. My brother’s wife is more highly elevated than anyone in your family among the ton’s ranks, and it would be best if you befriended her. She has married my brother so she is not a typical woman of the ton, you’ll find.”

“Will she like me?” Margaret asked.

“I think she will,” he said, smoothing a hair that had fallen out of place and tucking it behind her ear. “Beatrice is a writer. And there is also, I hope, the matter of my partner and his wife. If you must know, Mary Watson is not all she seems. I think with the two of them you and I should be able to turn the tides of opinions about us. Then, once the ton has settled us into respectability, we will lead the lives we want to lead. You may go to the Americas to continue your education, and Watson and I will continue to work on the consulting detective business.” He gently cupped her cheek, in a way that comforted her. “We will persevere. That is what we have always done, and will continue to do, in the face of any obstacles that may come in our path.”

Margaret nodded and then rested her head on his shoulder. This was a marriage of convenience, a partnership with her best friend to allow them to live the lives they wanted, but he cared. That was enough for now.


	4. Chapter 4

She was surprised that she was visited that very day by both Beatrice Holmes and Mary Watson. She wondered if Sherlock had had a hand in that, but it didn’t matter. Over the course of pouring tea, she decided she quite readily liked both women. Beatrice was a taller woman, with dark brown hair and green eyes, who wore spectacles and dressed as though she was a fashionable personal companion, not the wife of a Lord. She admitted she’d usually be lounging in her very own study, writing a book in nothing more than her petticoat, but she had heard the news of her brother-in-law’s marriage and had to meet the woman who had gotten Sherlock Holmes to settle.

Mary had laughed at that, saying they all knew Sherlock would not settle in a typical way. She had the feeling Mary was privy to the fact the marriage was a marriage of convenience, and her warm eyes crinkled as she laughed, continuing that it would make Sherlock better regardless and for that Margaret should be thanked most profusely. She wore her blond curls artfully and seemed to prefer simple clothing, this current outfit topped off with a suffrage button on her person.

Margaret knew then that the three of them were going to become quite close, and by the time she sat down to drink her own cup of tea, she was far more relaxed than she had been upon her return to her new home.

“So tell us the truth,” Beatrice said. “You’ve entered into a marriage of convenience with my brother-in-law, haven’t you?”

Margaret nodded slowly. “We’re...not well suited for others, and marriage has its benefits,” she replied.

“I did the same with his brother,” she replied, and Margaret’s eyes widened. “Ours grew into a love match, surprisingly, but all that matters is that you and Sherlock are both happy, really. Whether it becomes a love match in time is inconsequential. It’s my duty, supposedly, to provide the heir, and I’ll endeavour to have a few more romps with my husband to give you both peace.”

Mary chuckled. “Looking for any excuse, aren’t you?”

“Well, we never had a proper time to enjoy marriage when we _got_ married,” Beatrice said. “So we’re making up for the lost time.” She had some of her tea. “The Holmes family is a family of those who lives their own lives the way they choose, and you’re a most welcome member, Margaret, I promise. Sherlock loves you insofar as much to offer this arrangement and that says something, even if it’s simply a platonic love. And we’ll do our best to help you with your newfound social standing.”

“Beatrice is right,” Mary said. “Despite the appalling way your family treated you, there is no one better for the situation than Sherlock. I know he comes off as cold and unfeeling to some, but really, he is a dear. He will stand by your side as you make your way in society as his wife, and so will we.”

Margaret felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She hadn’t expected so much kindness from two women she barely knew, especially since they knew the marriage was a fiction, but she appreciated it ever so much. “Thank you, both of you.”

“There’s a meeting of Women for the Vote this afternoon if you’d like to attend?” Mary asked. “Not that you have to pick a side, so to speak, but...”

“No, I’m all for women having the vote,” Molly said. “My father and mother were aghast at that, but I was not.”

“Good, because Sherlock is a supporter,” Beatrice said. “My husband, being in the political arena, is one who tries to affect change from the inside, but your support will mean so much as Sherlock’s wife. The family will stand united under this subject.” She looked at her. “Have you heard about Lord Cumberland’s ball in a fortnight?”

“I never really bothered with them,” Margaret admitted.

“You don’t have to now,” Mary said, “but Cumberland is a grateful client of Sherlock and my husband. His ball would be the best place to make your first real appearance in society as Sherlock’s wife. His wife is a forward thinker as well. Lady Cumberland will be at the meeting today, I believe.”

“Is she friendly?” Margaret asked.

Beatrice nodded. “An older woman, but warm as freshly baked bread.” She paused, then reached into her reticule for a notepad and a small charcoal stick. “’Warm as freshly baked bread.’ What a good turn of phrase to save for future reference.” 

“Beatrice and her notes,” Mary said with a soft chuckle.

“Well, I tend to forget these turn of phrases before I can get back to my study, and carrying a pot of ink and a quill or one of those fountain pens seems so...” She groped for the word as her hands moved in the air at her sides

Margaret nodded. “I understand,” she assured her.

“Oh good,” Beatrice said with a warm smile. “I’m never sure when it comes to times I _can’t_ articulate my thoughts.”

“How few they are,” Mary added. “Then it’s settled. We’ll attend the meeting this afternoon and introduce Margaret to Lady Cumberland, and see what happens from there.” Mary reached over and grasped one of Molly’s hands as Beatrice grasped the other. “I’m so happy to have you in this circle of peers.”

“I am too,” Beatrice said.

“Thank you both, so much,” Margaret said, squeezing their hands. These two women, she thought to herself, would indeed be friends for life, no matter what happened between herself and Sherlock.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock’s partner was at Baker Street when Margaret arrived back there, and Sherlock gave them a relatively brief introduction before turning back in on himself. He had smiled at the sight of the purple sash on her shoulder so she assumed he did not have any mind to her working on the suffrage movement, though John grimaced slightly. “My wife’s doing?”

“And my...sister-in-law,” she said, almost calling Beatrice by her proper name. “They’re lovely women. Very opinionated and very brash. I enjoy the company.”

“Well, we love the women we love,” he said before running his fingers on his mustache. “And I think Sherlock cares for you as well, in his own way. Until we received the case this afternoon, he talked of nothing but you. I told him it was a travesty we had to wait so long to meet.”

Margaret blushed slightly. “Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she said as she sat across from him and helped herself to Sherlock’s cup of tea, as it was growing cold. She knew he would not mind; he enjoyed the new drink, coffee, much more. Said it stimulated his mind more, though she knew he occasionally dabbled in his seven percent solution as well, much to her consternation. John grinned and chuckled softly as he watched.

“I assume the two of you acted much like a married couple before you made it official,” he said.

“I suppose we did,” she said, tilting her head. “It just seems we have settled into this easily, but today is the first day of truly being man and wife in the eyes of all. We shall have to see what it brings.”

Sherlock blinked and then took the cup from Margaret’s fingers, taking a sip. “My cup.”

“Well, you were ignoring it,” she said. “And you know I prefer my tea slightly cooled.”

Sherlock made a face as he tasted it and then pushed the cup towards the saucer she was holding. “How? It’s ghastly.”

“I’ll make you a fresh cup, then,” she said with a soft laugh, leaning over and kissing his cheek. Though she knew John was among those who knew the marriage was simply one of convenience, it would help to occasionally be affectionate, to get in the habit, especially if they were to show society up, so to speak.

“You did pick a good one,” John said as she walked away to get more tea.

“Indeed I did,” she heard Sherlock reply before she left the room. It took time to heat the water and brew the tea, but when she returned John had left and Sherlock had moved to look out the window. “Thank you, Molly.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, handing him the fresh cup. “What case did you get?”

“A most peculiar one,” he said. “From my brother. There is a woman he has asked us to look for, a mistress of disguise. She has, apparently, escaped from an asylum and goes by the name Eurus.”

“Frightful,” Margaret said. “What is his interest in her?”

“He hasn’t said, but he has told us she’s dangerous. But without further information, I cannot even come up with an apt description, much less her motivations for escape.” He moved a hand to finger the sash at her shoulder. “Votes for women. I had the feeling the two of them would convince you to attend at least one of their meetings.”

“I’ll be going to a march in a few days,” she said. “I never would have dared before.”

“If you face arrest, I will come and claim you and rescue you from jail,” he said. “Who knows? Perhaps I will don the sash myself and join you in the march if this case goes nowhere.”

“Are you sure?” she said. “I mean, I have been interested in this subject but I’ve never broached it with you, and I don’t want to presume--”

“Equal say is important in making sure the government works,” he said. “All people with the proper standing in life, which is life itself, should have the right to vote at a certain age. We’ll start with women and then work from there till the right is given to all. It’s what’s...right.”

“I believe, then, your presence may well be welcomed at the march,” she said, looking up at him with a warm smile and getting one in return. This boded well for them. Hopefully, this fake marriage would not complicate the matters of their friendship much if they were to have any disagreements.


	6. Chapter 6

They did, indeed, have separate rooms to rest in, and she took herself to the task of making her room feel like home with the help of Beatrice and Mary. Sherlock had to admit, he had not thought the three of them would get on so well, but they did and it pleased him. Margaret had always had few friends beside himself, he knew that, and seeing these two women help rouse her from the melancholy of her family’s reaction to the elopement was a balm he didn’t know he needed. Feminine laughter filled the halls of his abode, as did discussions of rights for women and whatever thoughts Beatrice had for turns of phrase or new stories to tell.

His abode was quickly becoming a home, he realized one evening a fortnight after the elopement. It was just he and Margaret, and he was smoking his pipe, looking over information on the asylum that the infamous Eurus had escaped from. He had gone there in person and had never seen a more dismal and dreary place. If this Eurus had wanted freedom, he could certainly see why.

Margaret was sitting in his favorite chair, her feet stretched out in front of her and heels on a stool, absolutely absorbed in a book on anatomy. Her reading spectacles were perched on the end of her nose and the only thing of note was how little she had on, wearing simply her nightclothes and a loose dressing-gown, and that her hair was down.

And he was struck by the odd thought that this was how it should be.

Not just her looking the way she did, but her being here, in his home, with him, as though she had always been there and rightfully belonged there. He was so caught up in the thoughts that perhaps his feelings of friendship for Margaret were growing into something fonder that it was the snap of her closing the book that caught his attention.

“I swear, I know a woman’s body better than this...this hack! And his theories are all wrong!” She glared at the book and then tossed it towards the other chair as she usually did with a tome or a newspaper she disagreed with and then lifted herself up to pace. “Hysteria is not related to women’s anatomy! It’s a charge made against women to confine them to their homes and under the thumb of the men in their lives. Though admittedly there may be _some_ maladies cured by hysterical paroxysm, I think that it’s not the end of all medical treatments to treat women.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her ranting, a fond smile on his face. “And what exactly do you know of hysterical paroxysms?”

"More than you," she said, crossing her arms. "They're very...liberating."

“Do you know from firsthand experience?” he asked, now more curious as Margaret turned a peculiar shade of red he had never seen before.

“Once. It was...it did not work the way Mother had supposed it would.” She flushed and turned aside. “The clitoral stimulation was something I thought about studying so I had an electronic hand vibration machine purchased. I have yet to use it and I am unsure if it was transferred with the rest of my belongings or...confiscated by my mother, who would not deign to buy one for herself but would enjoy the clitoral stimulative treatments from a doctor.”

He moved closer to her and gently touched her face, turning her face to face him. He did not want to embarrass her, and while he was a worldly man, and he knew she was a woman for whom social mores meant little, even then, some topics might be too sensitive for them to discuss. “You don’t have to say anymore if you choose not to,” he said. “I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that,” she said, looking him in the eye. “I just feel that if I’m to try and replicate the results with...something more than a machine or even my own hands, I would much rather have it be with my own intentions and with my own choice in partners.”

“And just what would those intentions be?” he asked curiously.

“To know if clitoral stimulation is simply a cure for certain female maladies or something...more,” she said. “I think it could be more, but then, I have never...” She trailed off then. “Aside from you, I have never even kissed a man, much less thought of asking one to help me with such experiments.”

“Then perhaps I am the man for you to do those experiments with if you choose,” he murmured, suddenly struck by the idea of having her in his own bed for a night.

“You? You would...with me?” she asked, so shocked she could barely get the words out. He wasn’t the most handsome of fellows, and he was socially awkward in many respects, he realized. And this had been a gaffe of epic proportions, he realized.

“I’m not suitable,” he said. “My apologies.” He let go of her face and turned away.

“Sherlock, no. Wait,” she said, reaching for his hand. “I know this is a marriage of convenience, but...if we were to...take precautions, perhaps?” She gently tugged him back to her. “I just fear you’ll have me and then not...” She trailed off.

“Not want you?” he asked. “Margaret, there is no place you should be other than this place, with me. If having relations would make this more palatable for you, I would do anything. You are my dearest friend and I want you to be happy with this arrangement. I would do much to make you happy.”

“Then I accept,” she said, giving him a small, soft smile the lit up her face.

“And how should we seal this agreement?” he asked.

“With a kiss,” she replied. “As that may be an area I need practice in for scientific results as well.”

“Then we will seal this agreement with a real kiss,” he said. “Just let me guide you.” She nodded and he pulled her close, enjoying the feel of her in his arms, and then bent his head towards hers, capturing her lips in a soft, patient kiss. She was surprised at first but then kissed him back for a moment before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him more enthusiastically. There could be more practice later, and he had to resist the urge to take it further right there in the study, but at least he was fairly sure that this was a good start for, perhaps, giving this marriage a better chance at succeeding for as long as they wanted it to.


End file.
